A Night of Ice and Blood
by Morna
Summary: A Game of Thrones and Avatar: The Last Airbender cross-over. As exiled Prince Zuko fights for his life on the Wall while the Wildlings overrun it, he cannot get a certain waterbender off of his mind. Zutara AU.


A Night of Blood and Ice

**This is a Game of Thrones and ATLA cross-over. It DOES contain spoilers for GOT episode 9 of season 4.**

Snow the color of flame crunches underfoot as Zuko rushes across the open ground, twisting mid-air to avoid a chunk of rock hurled at him. He lands heavily on his side and feels his ribs creak under the impact. The firebender leaps back to his feet and punches out a volley of fireballs. The earthbender raises a shield of rock and dirt, but Zuko is already sprinting around the side of the wall. He spins and kicks out a wave of fire. It rolls over the man, and he is not fast enough to protect against it. The heat engulfs him. The air is filled with the stink of burning flesh and shrieks of pain.

The exiled prince does not even pause in horror, a fleeting moment of guilt and he has moved on to the Wildling in his path. This one is a nonbender with black hair twisted into thick, swinging braids. The Wildling holds a small stone axe in one hand and a long knife in the other. They stare at each other in a moment of perfect understanding before the truce is broken, and the Wilding comes screaming across the distance with a the axe raised overhead.

Zuko spins to the side at the last moment, and the axe comes whizzing down where his shoulder had once been. The Wilding recovers quickly and lashes out with that wicked looking blade, slicing at the prince's stomach. The firebender reels back and sends out red hot flames with his fist. The man with braids bends over backwards at a nearly impossible, and the smell of singed hair is suddenly everywhere. He straightens and alternates swinging the axe and knife in diagonal slices. The prince backpedals furiously, gritting his teeth. The fighting is too close to use any sort of bending. He's just as likely to set himself on fire as his opponent. The Wildling man is nearly on top of him, close enough to smell the stench of old furs over the dying fragrance of burned hair.

The knife whistles through the air, a finger's span from his exposed throat. Not for the first time, Zuko curses the fact that the Watch is so ill-equipped and undermanned. He couldn't even find a decent gorget in the pile of dented and mis-matched armor in the Watch's store rooms.

Pain comes bursting through his distraction as the axe strikes his arm before he can dance out of its path. The skin splits and warm blood trickles beneath the torn black leather. He hisses and raises his remaining dual sword to deflect a blow from the knife. He had lost the other one somewhere back in the fortress before it had been completely overrun.

A fierce grin splits the Wildling's dark face, and he hefts his axe for a second blow as the knife comes darting forward again. Zuko knows he can deflect one but not both now. A wound from either will most likely be fatal for the former prince. As both weapons come swinging in towards his midsection, his right heel slips forward on the slick snow, and he lets the momentum carry him down. The firebender lands with his palms flat out behind him and kicks his legs around in a tight circle to take the Wildling's feet out from underneath him. The man hits the ground with a shocked grunt and goes sprawling. The axe spins out of his hand. Zuko is on top of him and driving his sword through the Wildling's heart before the man can draw a breath.

It is only when those full lips part and emit a soft sigh of surprise that Zuko realizes the frame beneath him is too small for a man. Blue eyes rimmed in long, dark lashes blink at him in question even as the hand still gripping the knife starts to raise it again. Then the light fades from them as his weight drives the blade deeper, and the hand falls back to the snow. The Wildling woman is dead.

He scrambles off the body with nausea churning in his belly, not even bothering to pull his sword free. A deep breath is followed by a dry heaving, and his feet are moving again before he can even wipe the spit from the corner of his mouth. He has killed before more times than he likes to think about. He knew that Wildling women were often in the thick of the fighting. He knew that the Water Tribes were a predominant force amongst them, but it is the combination of the two that sickens him. It is the terrible dawning familiarity of the woman's flat unseeing gaze that drives him forward.

He runs. He runs past other Wildlings who step in to his path. He flings fire wildly at them not caring if he strikes true or not. He runs past other men of the Night's Watch who call out to him without even a glance over his shoulder. The fighting has died down now with the Wildlings retreating to lick their wounds for the rest of the night.

Snow crunches beneath his feet as he keeps sprinting, and the fires are still burning on the battlements. The ground is slick and red in some spots, and he slides across it. Zuko runs on. His eyes only stray to the side when he sees a still body wrapped in dark brown and grey furs. He sends up prayers to Tui and La and Agni-to whoever the fuck will listen-as he runs.

He finds her breathing shallowly and slumped against the Wall. Her skin is far paler than he remembers it being and her hands tremble as she struggles to raise a tentacle of water when she sees him approach. Her eyes still burn him. He hits his knees and crawls to her side. Her hands drop to her sides, and the water returns to the snow.

He thinks she means to spit at him, but she only coughs and blood flecks her lips. His hands reach out and wander over her without thinking and find the arrow embedded in her gut.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he yells as his fingers fumble uselessly around the shaft of the arrow.

Katara grunts in pain and bats his hands away. "The same thing you are, traitor."

"You're not supposed to be here," he cries out and grips her shoulders because he has to hold on to something.

The waterbender gives him a contemptuous look. "I have always been more than a healer. I thought you knew that at least." Her voice is pained and soft.

"Heal this then," he says desperately, angrily. He wants to shake her. He wants to beat his head against the Wall in frustration.

Her lips thin in a bitter grin, her teeth are stained red. "Can't," she chokes, "too deep. Too many organs. One of your damn earthbenders got me with a stone-tipped arrow."

"No," he says stubbornly.

Katara whispers something as she begins to sway to the side. His hands reach out to catch her and draw her to him. She does not even bother to feebly resist.

"No," he repeats as he pulls her across his lap so that he can look down into her face.

The smile flickers as she winces in pain but it returns again. One callused palm reaches up and cups his cheek. "Green," she sighs.

"What?" he says as he cranes his neck down to hear her.

"Green. I wish it was green."

"I don't understand, Katara," he gasps, his throat closing as tears push against the backs of his eyes.

She swallows and struggles to find the strength to speak. "Do you remember those caverns? The crystals made everything so green. I always heard the South was green." Her eyes drift in and out of focus as they rove over his features, lingering on his scar. Her fingers glide over the rough patch of skin.

"I remember them," he says as he tightens his grip around her and gently holds her to his chest. "We will go back to them."

Another laugh that sounds more like a sad sigh. "Still a liar. Always a liar. I trusted you. I loved-"

"And now you hate me. I know. I know. I am-"

She shushes him with a finger over his lips. "No. Never. Wanted to, but I could not. I was going to say," she wheezes, "we should have stayed there. We should have never left."

"Yeah, we should have," he says softly. He thinks of the slanting glow of jade green light and the steam of hot springs curling up around them. That place had seemed like something set outside of time itself, a piece of the Spirit World they had stolen away into for only a few blissful hours. Without realizing it, Zuko begins to rock side-to-side with Katara in his arms. She is cold, and he heats the palms of his hands to give her some of his warmth like he doesn't to do when they were lying in the tents naked. It takes him several moments to realize that it won't do any good.

The tears hit her face, and he wipes them away with his thumb. _You were wrong to love her_, he thinks to himself as he clutches her body to him. _You were wrong to leave her, _another part of him says that sounds oddly like his Uncle Iroh as he finally lets her go.

**Thank you for reading! Any thoughts/feedback you have would be nice. It has been a while since I wrote Zutara. **


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